Fifty  Years  A  Printer 

By 
'..'illiam  M«  Cubery 


ROBERT  ERNEST  COWAN 


Fifty  Years  a  Printer 


William  M.  Cubery 


EX    LIBRIS 


SA?J  C-.ARL.OS     1/69 


ROBERT  ERNEST  COWAN 


CElAl 


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1ba\>e  tfaitb  anb  Struggle  ©n. 


HENRY    O.    HOUGHTON 

THE    EMPLOYER    ON    THE    SHADY    SIDE     OF    LIFE 


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WILLIAM     M.    CUBERY 

THE    APPRENTICE    ON    THE    SHADY    SIDE    OF    LIFE 


291 1& 


Laugh,  and  the  World  Laughs  With  You, 


This  poem  was  written  in  December,  1862,  by 
Colonel  John  A.  Joyce,  at  the  Gait  House,  Louis- 
ville, Ky.,  at  the  request  of  George  D.  Prentice. 


Laugh,  and  the  world  laughs  with  you  ; 

Weep,  and  you  weep  alone  •, 
For  this  brave  old  earth  must  borrow  its  mirth, 

It  has  troubles  enough  of  its  own. 
Sing,  and  the  hills  will  answer  ; 

Sigh  !      It  is  lost  on  the  air  ; 
The  echoes  bound  to  a  joyful  sound, 

But  shrink  from  voicing  care. 

Rejoice,  and  men  will  seek  you  ; 

Grieve,  and  they  turn  and  go  ; 
They  want  full  measure  of  all  your  pleasure, 

But  they  do  not  want  your  woe. 
Be  glad,  and  your  friends  are  many  ; 

Be  sad,  and  you  lose  them  all  ; 
There  are  none  to  decline  your  tiectared  wine, 

But  alone  you  must  drink  life's  gall. 

Feast,  and  your  halls  are  crowded  ; 

Fast,  and  the  world  goes  by  ; 
Succeed  and  give,  and  it  helps  you  live, 

But  no  man  can  help  you  die. 
There  is  room  in  the  halls  of  pleasure 

For  a  long  and  lordly  train, 
But  one  by  one  we  must  all  file  on 

Through  the  narrow  aisles  of  pain. 

— Louisville  Courier-  Journal. 


Fifty  Years  a  Printer, 


Life  of  an  Apprentice  Nearly  Half  a  Century  Ago. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  the  boys  of  this  generation  to  know 
what  was  expected  of  apprentice  boys  half  a  century  ago,  hence 
this  sketch  : 

On  March  20,  1850,  a  boy  lacking  five  days  of  fourteen  entered 
the  employ  of  Bolles  &  Hougliton,*  Cambridge,  Massachusetts, 
and  assumed  the  responsible  position  of  printer's  devil.  The 
desire  of  the  employers  was  that  he  should  be  indentured  but  the 
spirit  of  independence  leigned  in  the  little  devil's  breast  and  he 
refused  to  sign  papers ,  but  strange  to  say  that  while  he  was  the 
only  one  to  refuse  to  be  "  bound,"  he  was  the  only  one  that  served 
seven  years — the  others  taking  French  leave.  The  salary  of  this 
apprentice  was  to  be  thirty  dollars  a  year  and  his  board,  ten  dollars 
to  be  added  each  year.  The  duties  were  varied.  Up  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  summer  and  winter.  Open  the  office,  pick  up 
type,  sprinkle  the  floor,  sweep,  hasten  to  breakfast,  run  errands, 
wheel  stereotype  forms;  rain  or  shine,  snow  or  sleet,  ice  or  mud, 
those  forms  must  be  at  the  foundry,  half  a  mile  away,  at 
a  ceitain  time.  Here  in  California  we  would  hesitate  to  ask  an 
expressman  to  go  into  the  storms  that  that  fourteen-year  little 
fellow  had  to  face  with  his  wheelbarrow  load  of  type,  as  much  as 
he  could  wheel.  This  was  the  dark  side  of  his  life. 

Joys  of  Carrying  Proofs. 

One  of  the  pleasing  duties  of  a  printer's  devil's  life  is 
carrying  proofs.  It  often  admits  the  boy  into  the  best  as  well 


*This  firm  was  soon  after  succeeded  by  Henry  O.  Houghton  &  Co.  (Riverside  Pregs). 


as  the  worst  society.  He  may  be  sent  to  the  lowest 
whiskey  saloon  in  the  land,  or  to  the  palace  of  some  writer 
whom  the  world  delighfceth  to  honor.  To  the  little  representative 
of  Satan  it  makes  but  little  difference  to  which  he  is  sent,  for  he 
realizes  he  represents  the  press  ;  and  no  matter  how  dirty  his 
hands  or  how  poor  his  garb  he  feels  that  he  holds  a  very  respons- 
ible position,  and  that  no  ordinary  mortal  can  properly  carry 
proofs  from  the  printing  office  to  the  author. 

Having  these  sentiments,  you  can  realize  how  our  hero  felt  one 
day  when  he  was  requested  by  Prof.  Bowen,  editor  of  the  North 
American  Review,  to  be  kind  enough  hereafter  to  leave  his  proof 
in  the  kitchen,  as  the  use  of  the  door  knocker  disturbed  a  new 
born  baby.  That  request  broke  the  little  devil  all  up,  to  think 
that  he  —a  representative  of  the  press — should  be  requested  to  go 
to  the  kitchen — just  the  same  as  the  butcher  and  baker — it  must 
not  be,  and  it  was  not,  either,  for  the  enterprising  youth  found  a 
side  door,  possessing  a  good  healthy  door  knocker,  and  he  used 
that  with  a  will — baby  or  no  baby — and  the  dignity  of  his  craft 
was  thus  preserved! 

Among  those  whom  he  honored  with  calls,  was  W.  W.  Story, 
the  noted  sculptor,  who  edited  the  works  of  his  father  Judge 
Story.  Eight  here  the  boy  wishes  to  pay  tribute  to  the  uniform 
courtesy  he  received  from  this  great  artist,  and  while  the  man  has 
probably  long  ago  forgotten  the  red-haired  boy  who  tarried  in 
his  hotel  room  while  he  read  the  proof,  yet  that  boy  has  noted 
with  pleasure  the  laurels  his  friend  has  won,  and  has  ever  been 
proud  of  the  fact  that  the  cloudy  path  of  his  youth  was 
brightened  by  the  genial  smile  and  kindly  advice  of  one  of  the 
Chesterfields  of  the  world. 

Then  he  carried  proofs  to  Hon.  Edward  Everett— the  other 
extreme  from  Story — cold  as  marble,  ceremonious  as  a  French- 
man; the  boy  had  no  use  for  Everett  when  he  discovered  that 


the  great  orator  was  too  proud  to  enter  a  printing  office,  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes  was  geniality  itself,  and  when  he  asked  our 
boy's  opinion  whether  it  was  best  to  use  a  red  line  on  the  title 
page  of  the  first  edition  of  the  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table 
you  can  judge  what  that  apprentice  thought  of  the  fact,  for  he 
felt  that  there  was  at  least  one  man  on  earth  that  appreciated  his 
talent  as  a  printer,  although  he  had  been  only  two  years  at  the 
trade.  Professor  Parsons,  author  of  Parsons  on  Contracts,  is 
remembered  as  the  personification  of  the  old-style  gentleman  : 
for  on  entering  the  composing  room  at  Riverside,  he  invariably 
removed  his  hat  and  until  outside  the  door  remained  uncov- 
ered, which  our  observing  boy  tbought  was  just  right,  as  it  showed 
proper  respect  to  the  art  preservative  of  all  arts. 

As  a  Pressman. 

At  one  time  it  was  thought  that  the  subject  of  this  sketch  would 
be  compelled  to  leave  the  printing  business  on  account  of  ill 
health.  So  he  was  placed  in  the  pressroom,  and  soon  had  charge 
of  two  Adams  presses.  He  helped  to  print  the  principal  law 
works  of  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  many  of  the  publications'  of 
Ticjinor  &  Field.^and  the  first  edition  of  Worcester's  Dictionary. 

No  one  was  ever  hurried  in  the  Riverside  pressroom.  The  best 
work,  not  the  quickest  work,  was  the  aim  of  the  establishment ; 
and  time  has  demonstrated  the  wisdom  of  the  practice — for  while 
other  offices  have  appenred  and  faded  away  this  one  has  never  gone 
backward  and  still  enjoys  an  enviable  reputation  for  good  work. 

The  advantage  of  being  familiar  with  composition  and  press- 
work  was  demonstrated  to  our  late  apprentice  upon  his  arrival 
in  California.  He  had  not  set  type  for  many  years  and  as  he 
could  get  no  employment  at  presswork  he  went  back  to  the 
"case,"  and  when  that  failed  he  was  put  on  an  old  Adams  press  : 


8 

but  he  soon  discovered  that  speed,  not  quality,  was  the  Cali- 
fornia pressman's  motto,  and  he  learned  to  "  slash  "  his  work  to 
the  great  joy  of  his  employer  and  to  his  own  great  disgust. 

How  Leisure  Moments  Were  Spent. 

After  he  was  relieved  from  the  responsible  duty  of  sweeping 
the  office  he  devoted  the  early  morning  hours  and  his  spare  time 
after  supper  in  distributing  type  for  an  old  printer.  In  this  way 
he  added  one  cent  and,  by  extra  effort,  two  cents  per  day  to  his 
immense  salary  of  fifty  dollars  a  year. 

During  his  apprenticeship  he  belonged  to  the  Irving  Society 
of  Old  Cambridge,  Mechanics  Apprentices  Association  of  Boston, 
and  the  Irving  Literary  Association  of  Cambridgeport.  He 
heard  lectures  delivered  by  Bayard  Taylor,  John  B.  Gough, 
Edward  Everett,  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  Wendell  Phillips,  John 
G.  Saxe,  George  William  Curtis,  and  many  other  noted  characters. 

In  old  Massachusetts  the  boys  are  better  posted  on  public 
affairs  than  they  are  in  California.  Here  they  are  well  up  in 
base  ball,  prize  fights,  bicycle  races,  balls,  parties,  whist  clubs, 
boat  clubs,  etc.;  but  they  are  too  much  occupied  in  these  elevating 
pursuits  to  condescend  to  become  familiar  with  the  public  ques- 
tions of  the  day.  Many  of  the  graduates  of  our  universities  are 
appallingly  ignorant  of  the  science  of  government.  What  is  the 
result?  They  vote  as  their  fathers  vote.  The  tyranny  of  cor- 
porations is  taken  as  a  matter  of  course.  Wrongs  increase. 
Corruption  rules.  Honesty  is  at  a  discount.  Chaos  'reigns  in 
public  affairs  ;  and  our  young  men  fold  their  hands,  act  the  part 
of  Holmes'  "  Sweet  Little  Man,"  and  idiotically  ask  :  ''  How  can 
we  help  it?  "  No  such  question  is  ever  propounded  in  the  Old 
Bay  State.  The  motto  there  is  :  "  Ask  for  nothing  but  what  is 
right  and  submit  to  nothing  that  is  wrong."  What  follows? 


9 

Wherever  you  find  a  true  son  of  Massachusetts  you  find  a  genuine 
patriot  and  an  A  No.  1  kicker.  This  was  well  illustrated  in  Los 
Angeles  during  the  late  war.  It  was  difficult  then  to  tell  who 
were  rebels  and  who  were  Union  men.  A  stranger  entered  the 
town  and  it  was  asked:  "Is  he  all  right?"  The  reply  was: 
"  Yes,  of  course,  he  is  from  Massachusetts." 

The  reason  for  this  marked  difference  is  that  the  boys  in 
Massachusetts  attend  all  town  meetings  and  lectures,  have 
debating  societies,  where  the  questions  of  the  day  are  discussed, 
and  they  take  an  interest  in  the  public  welfare — whether  it  is 
"  Bleeding  Kansas "  or  "  Suffering  Cuba"  gatherings,  the  boys 
are  there ;  they  glory  in  the  fact  that  they  are  American 
citizens,  and  they  are  ever  ready  to  do  their  part  to  advance  the 
welfare  of  the  nation  and  defend  the  honor  of  her  flag.  Some  such 
spirit  should  be  infused  into  the  Native  Sons  of  California,  for 
they  are  too  fond  of  "  sports,"  money  and  fun.  They  refuse,  as 
a  class,  to  strive  for  a  university  education,  preferring  to  make 
money  when  young,  little  dreaming  that  the  educated  man  in  the 
future  will  control  more  and  more  the  purse  strings,  and  the 
untutored  mind  will  be  but  the  slave  to  the  learned.  As  it  is  now 
the  Native  Daughters  of  Calitornia  have  better  physiques,  better 
morals,  and  are  better  educated  than  the  Native  Sons,  and  if  the 
boys  do  not  develop  moie  ambition,  the  story  of  the  Amazons  will 
be  repeated  at  the  portal  of  the  Golden  Gate. 

On  Boarding  Housekeepers. 

If  there  is  anything  that  endangers  the  profits  of  a  boarding 
house  it  is  a  boy  with  good  healthy  digestive  organs — like  the  one 
who  was  told  by  his  mother  to  always  leave  the  table  wishing  he 
had  more,  and  he  piteously  replied  :  *'  That  he  always  did."  As 
the  trees  in  the  forest  differ  in  beauty  ;  as  the  mountain  streams 


10 

vary  their  music — now  soft  as  a  zephyr — then  wild  as  the  tempest 
shock— as  no  two  human  beings  are  alike — so  the  presiding 
angels  of  boarding  houses  have  no  twin-like  resemblance.  Early 
to  bed  and  early  to  rise,  and  the  manifold  duties  to  perform  in 
the  meantime,  had  the  effect  to  increase  to  an  alarming  extent, 
the  already  well-developed  appetite  of  our  hero.  Now  some  land- 
ladies are  pleased  to  see  a  boy  manifest  an  earnest  desire  to  bear 
testimony  to  the  fact  that  the  cooking  of  the  establishment  meets 
with  his  unqualified  approval.  May  God  bless  them,  for  theirs  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  He  recalls  one  now.  The  little  gor- 
mandizer was  very  fond  of  Indian  pudding  ;  so  one  day  the  land- 
lady secured  the  consent  of  the  other  boarders  to  waive  their 
pudding  in  order  that  the  boy  should  have  the  right  of  way. 
Plate  after  plate  of  pudding  quickly  disappeared  ;  and  while  they 
lost  their  share  of  the  pudding,  the  loss  was  forgotten  as  they 
beheld  the  eating  capacity  of  that  small  boy,  and  as  he  retired 
from  the  table  with  a  grateful  heart  and  an  excessively  well-filled 
stomach,  he  noticed  a  smile  upon  the  face  of  every  boarder — and 
he  hoped  they  were  satisfied,  for  he  was.  On  the  other  hand,  how 
can  you  characterize  a  specimen  of  humanity,  who,  in  order  to 
check  a  boy's  appetite,  puts  something  in  the  food  to  make  him 
sick ;  yet  the  little  fellow  had  to  endure  that  agony  for  several 
months.  As  a  rule,  however,  he  was  blessed  with  landladies  who 
felt  that  as  long  as  he  remained  under  their  roof  they  must  be 
laying  up  treasures  in  heaven — for  their  earthly  treasures  con- 
tinually faded  away.  The  apprentice  is  to  be  pitied  who  has  to 
work  early  and  late  and  then  has  his  food  meted  out  to  him  by  a 
mean,  grasping,  hard-hearted  landlady. 

The  boy  boarder  was  not  altogether  ornamental.  He  was  found 
very  useful  in  case  it  was  necessary  to  f nrnisli  an  escort  to  some 
venerable  dame,  who  called  for  a  social  chat,  and  many  a  time, 
when  acting  the  part  of  a  gallant,  the  boy  felt  that  he  had  much 


11 

rather  be  in  bed  than  walking  the  streets,  acting  as  body  guard  to 
those  who  were  strangers  to  him  and  would  ever  so  remain.  But 
he  did  it  like  a  martyr  and  it  is  to  be  supposed  he  received  a 
martyr's  reward. 

What  Think  Ye  of  Printers? 

This  question  is  often  propounded.  The  apprentice's  impres- 
sions were  not  favorable.  They  made  too  much  "  pi "  that  he  was 
expected  to  distribute — and  that  heap,  that  would  fill  a  peck 
basket,  haunts  him  still !  He  was  never  able  to  reduce  its  size ; 
for  by  the  time  he  had  a  handful  back  in  the  case  two  more 
were  added  by  some  careless  workman.  If  you  want  to  see 
a  picture  of  despair  look  at  a  boy  sorting  "  pi,"  where  he  sees 
no  end  to  the  task  and  the  task  constantly  increasing.  Then,  too, 
in  the  good  old  days  of  '50  printers  were  too  fond  of  whiskey. 
It  was  sad  to  see  only  ten  compositors  on  duty  Monday  morning, 
where  there  should  have  been  fifty.  It  was  sadder  still  to  see  one 
of  the  swiftest  compositors,  and  a  general  favorite,  tearing  the 
hair  out  of  the  foreman's  head,  while  in  a  drunken  frenzy.  Oh 
how  much  better  it  would  be  for  the  boys  to  remember  the  words 
of  Solomon:  • 

Who  hath  woe?  who  hath  sorrow?  who  hath  contentions?  who  hath 
babbling?  who  hath  wounds  without  cause?  who  hath  redness  of  eyes? 

They  that  tarry  long  at  the  wine ;  they  that  go  to  seek  mixed  wine. 

Look  not  thou  upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red,  when  it  giveth  his  color  in 
the  cup,  when  it  moveth  itself  aright. 

At  the  last  it  biteth  like  a  serpent,  and  stingeth  like  an  adder. 

Printers  are  generous  to  a  fault — no  just  appeal  for  charity  ever 
goes  unheeded — if  they  have  not  got  the  money  they  will  borrow 
and  return  it  not  again,  perhaps.  They  abhor  hypocrisy — no 
man  can  deceive  them  with  "  honeyed  words,"  if  they  are  not  true 
the  typo  knows  it  instinctively;  they  are  not  church  goers,  as  a 


12 

rule,  for  too  many  policy  men  occupy  the  pulpits  these  days,  and 
they  cannot  abide  men  who  are  neither  hot  nor  cold.  They  are 
good  critics  and  generally  just;  they  are  intelligent,  well  read, 
unassuming,  polite;  some  of  them  may  be  too  fond  of  woman, 
judging  from  the  number  of  divorces;  they  are  law  abiding  citi- 
zens, honest,  public  spirited,  industrious,  and  kind  to  their 
families;  nervous,  thin  and  cadaverous;  can  enjoy  a  good  joke,  a 
good  lecture,  a  good  cigar  and,  if  strongly  tempted,  a  good  drink. 
They  are  the  personification  of  patience  and  do  credit  to  their 
patron  saint — Job ;  and  through  his  influence  and  the  sufferings 
they  endure  striving  to  benefit  humanity  it  is  commonly 
believed  that  not  a  single  typo  will  be  excluded  from  the  "  better 
country,"  although  it  is  acknowledged  that  some  of  the  craft  will 
have  a  very  close  call  and  be  compelled  to  give  divers  and  sundry 
excuses  to  Saint  Peter  before  they  reach  a  "sit"  that  has  no 
"  take." 

The  Chances  in  California. 

If  one  is  a  successful  business  man  in  California  he  can  succeed 
in  any  part  of  the  world ;  for  it  takes  more  hard  work,  econ- 
omy, skill,  industry  and  brains  to  transact  business  here  than 
elsewhere.  The  competition  is  very  severe  and  bitter ;  the 
chances  of  success  small  and  the  chances  of  defeat  great.  One 
cause  of  the  difficulty  of  doing  business  in  California  is  the  narrow- 
mindedness  of  the  railroad  managers.  This  state  is  an  object 
lesson  to  the  whole  country,  showing  what  the  nation  will  become 
if  corporation  tyranny  is  not  checked.  It  is  a  pitiable  sight  to  see 
a  grand  city  like  San  Francisco  under  the  rule  of  corporations  ; 
its  merchant  princes  trembling  for  fear  they  will  offend  the  owner 
of  the  plantation  ;  and  the  city  presenting  the  appearance  of  a 
deserted  mining  town  in  place  of  one  of  the  great  commercial 
centers  of  the  world.  True  freemen  never  remain  slaves  forever. 


13 

A  cyclone  of  public  indignation  is  gathering  that  will  remove  the 
chains  that  bind  this  fair  city,  and  the  tyrants  will  realize  the 
force  of  the  poet's  words  : 

"  God  help  them  if  the  tempest  swings 
The  piue  against  the  palm. 
****** 
When  once  their  slumbering  passions  burn 
The  peaceful  are  the  strong." 

Unless  you  love  trouble  and  rumors  of  trouble  our  advice  is  to 
stay  away  for  a  season  ;  but  after  the  storm-cloud  has  burst  and 
right  and  decency  has  won  a  victory,  then  come  to  the  fairest 
land  the  sun  shines  upon,  where  the  earth  yields  a  generous 
increase,  where  industry  finds  reward,  where  the  cost  of  living 
is  cheap,  and  where,  under  favorable  circumstances,  plenty 
takes  the  place  of  want,  where  the  children's  cheeks  blush 
with  the  glow  of  health,  and  old  age  wonders  if  it  has  not 
already  reached  its  heavenly  home. 

A  Retreat  for  Disabled   Printers  and  Editors. 

There  is  a  certain  rich  man,  who  has  large  interests  in  Cali- 
fornia (his  income  from  one  building  is  at  least  $15,000  per 
month),  who  spends  his  money  in  New  York.  He  has  an  editor 
son-in-law,  who  some  years  ago  kindly  relieved  him  of  the  expense 
of  supporting  his  daughter,  and  if  said  son-in-law  would  suggest 
to  said  father-in-law  that  if  he  would  invest  the  amount  thus 
saved  by  the  marriage  of  his  daughter,  in  a  retreat  for  disabled 
printers  and  editors,  he  would  be  doing  the  fair  thing  and  thus 
enable  many  a  brain-tired  typo  to  spend  his  closing  years  amid 
the  song  of  birds  and  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  receive — 
what  even  kings  and  princes  would  enjoy — a  printer's  bless- 
ing. We  even  take  the  liberty  of  suggesting  the  location, 
Millbrae,  San  Mateo  County,  California,  U.  S.  A. 


14 

If  this  appeal  should  fail  then  we  look  to  the  Railroad  Tyrant, 
the  financial  Nero  of  the  Century — who  has  caused  more 
sorrow  and  distress  in  California  than  any  other  living  man — to 
donate  some  of  his  railroad  lands  to  this  good  cause.  If  he  does 
this  charitable  act  the  world  will  say  it  is  a  repetition  of  that 
great  scene  of  repentance  when  soon  after  "the  vail  of  the  temple 
was  rent  in  twain  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  and  the  earth  did 
quake  and  the  rocks  rent." 

But  even  if  this  kind  appeal  fails  let  not  the  craft  be  dis- 
couraged, for  in  some  way  or  other  the  retreat  will  be  provided, 
and  before  another  decade,  land  now  as  desolate  as  the  desert, 
will  be  tickled  by  the  hoe  o£  the  aged  printer,  and  smile  with 
flowers  and  crops. 

Can  Good  Printing  be  Done  in  California? 

Yrs.  Take  it  on  an  average  there  is  no  place  in  the  world 
where  printing  is  done  in  better  style  than  in  California.  Pro- 
fessors in  our  universities  and  other  aspirants  for  literary  fame 
will  please  take  notice  and  govern  themselves  accordingly.  It  is 
possible  that  California  publishers  may  not  be  able  to  realize  as 
large  profits  as  their  Eastern  brethren,  yet  in  the  long  run  the 
difference  will  be  slight,  and  every  genuine  Californian  is  willing 
to  sacrifice  something  for  Home  Pride,  which  will  alone  build  up 
the  interests  of  the  state  and  retain  the  money  within  our  own 
borders  and  among  our  own  people. 

To  the  Boys  of  Other  Days. 

It  is  possible  that  this  souvenir  may  fall  into  the  hands  of 
some  who  have  labored  with  the  author  either  as  fellow  workmen 
or  as  employees.  To  all  such  he  sends  fraternal  greetings.  If, 
thus  far,  the  road  has  been  full  rough  may  a  kind  Providence 


15 

yet  lead  you  into  green  pastures  and  beside  still  waters;  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  you  have  secured  a  "phat  take,"  then  he  rejoices; 
but  turn  not  the  cold  shoulder  on  your  less  fortunate  brethren, 
for  ill  luck  may  yet  overtake  you  and  then  you  will  never  regret 
your  charity  investments — oftimes  they  bring  the  largest 
and  most  satisfactory  dividends.  But  whether  rich  or  poor,  an 
humble  editor  or  high-toned  journeyman,  remember  our  latch- 
string  is  always  out ;  but  he  fears  the  unfortunate  ones  will  be 
apt  to  receive  the  more  cordial  welcome — for  "  the  poor  are 
piteous  to  the  poor." 

The  Apprenticeship  Ended. 

On  March  20,  1857,  the  apprenticeship  ended,  and  the  graduate 
received  his  diploma,  bought  a  new  suit  and  a  plug  hat,  and  his 
employer  gave  him  a  reception  at  his  residence.  The  record  of  his 
life,  since  graduation,  has  been  kindly  published  by  the  Inland 
Printer,  which  appears  with  a  fac-simile  of  the  diploma,  on  the 
following  pages ;  and  he  desires  to  return  thanks  to  the  pub- 
lishers of  that  valuable  publication  for  the  honor  thus  con- 
ferred, and  he  will  cherish  it  as  one  of  the  most  pleasing 
incidents  of  his  checkered  career,  that  a  magazine  of  such  high 
character  should  of  its  own  free  will  and  accord,  without  hope 
of  reward,  honor  him  with  such  an  extended  and  favorable 
notice  in  its  columns. 


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CUBERY  &  CO.,  PRINTERS,  SAN  FRANCISCO.* 


BY  STYLUS. 


THE   printer-journalist  is   so    frequently    met   with   that  we 
look  upon  him  as  a  natural  product  of   the  evolutionary 
tendency  ;  but  it  will  be  noted  that  most  printers  who  have  taken 
to  journalism   graduated  from    the   case   in   a  newspaper  office. 
The  book   or   job    printer    most  frequently    sticks  to  his   case, 

or  until  he  engages  in  the  business  for 
his  own  account.  Then  again  the  printer 
who  is  successful  as  a  newspaper  man 
rarely  leaves  that  for  the  less  exciting 
occupation  of  an  employing  printer. 

William  M.  Cubery  is  a  San  Francisco 
printer  with  a  history,  some  particulars 
of  which  are  worth  recording.  He  was 
born  in  Massachusetts  in  1836,  and  at 
the  age  of  fourteen — in  fact,  five  days 
before  he  reached  his  fourteenth  birthday  he  began  work  as 
an  apprentice  to  the  Riverside  Press  at  Cambridge,  where  he 
served  the  regular,  old-fashioned  apprenticeship  of  seven  years, 
and  was  the  first  to  be  graduated  from  that  famous  establishment. 
After  serving  his  time  he  continued  for  a  few  years  in  the  employ 
of  the  office  where  he  had  learned  every  branch  of  the  trade,  until 
he  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  visit  California,  arriving  in  San 
Francisco  in  October,  1860.  After  the  usual  vicissitudes  and 
experiences  he  went  to  Los  Angeles  County,  and  toward  the  close 


WILLIAM  M.  CUBEBY. 


*So  valuable  a  publication  as  the  Inland  Printer,  appeals  to  all  lovers  of  artistic 
typography  and  illustration,  and  its  circulation  should  not  be  confined  to  printers.  It  is 
published  by  the  Inland  Printer  Co.,  Chicago,  at  $2.00  per  year. 


18 

of  the  war  was  editor  of  the  Wilmingtou  (Los  Angeles  County) 
Journal.  This  paper  had  the  proud  distinction  of  being  the  only 
Union  paper  in  Southern  California,  a  community  noted  at  that 
time  for  its  strong  disunion  sentiment.  Mr.  Cubery  is  a  man  of 
firmness,  and  was  not  deterred  from  expressing  his  sentiments  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  unfriendly  surroundings.  During  this 
period  he  served  his  township  as  justice  of  the  peace  in  addition 
to  his  other  duties. 

In  July,  1866,  peace  and  prosperity  having  resumed  their  sway 
in  California,  he  returned  to  San  Francisco,  where  he  organized 
a  partnership  under  the  name  of  Cubery  &  Co.,  and  engaged  in 
the  printing  business  on  a  moderately  large  scale.  From  that 
date  he  has  had  all  the  experiences  of  California  life — prosperity, 
adversity  ;  has  had  a  little  band  of  true  friends ;  has  been 
wounded  by  the  ingratitude  of  those  whom  he  had  befriended, 
though  often  cheered  by  the  kind  words  of  some  he  had  chanced 
to  aid.  Having  been  well  grounded  in  his  business,  he  always 
insisted  on  work  of  a  high  character. 

His  office  had  the  distinction  of  printing  the  first  book  in  the 
Russian  language  ever  produced  in  America,  at  a  time  when  the 
Russian  influence  was  more  strongly  felt  than  now  on  the  Pacific 
Coast.  He  has  also  printed  all  the  botanical  works  of  Prof.  E.  L. 
Greene,  the  noted  botanist.  For  many  years  he  was  the  printer 
of  the  Pacific  Churchman,  an  occupation  which  brought  him  the 
satisfaction  of  work  well  performed,  but  without  substantial 
returns.  Mr.  Cubery  was  president  of  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Association  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  and  without  ostentation 
has  labored  for  the  mental  and  moral  improvement  of  the  com- 
munity, as  many  a  journeyman  printer  will  testify.  He  served 
ten  years  in  the  militia  of  California  at  a  time  when  members 
were  liable  to  be  called  on  in  defense  of  the  country  ; 
helped  to  organize  St.  Luke's  Hospital ;  was  a  member  of  the 


19 

celebrated  Wallace  Grand  Jury — an  honest  attempt  of  honest  men 
to  reform  some  of  the  departments  of  the  public  service  in  San 
Francisco  ;  and  is  a  member  of  several  benevolent  and  beneficiary 
orders,  including  the  Masons. 

While  never  in  politics  as  a  politician,  Mr.  Cubery  is  always 
heard  from  during  a  political  campaign,  and  then  on  the  side 
of  clean  government  and  an  honest  administration  of  the  city's 
affairs. 

The  printing  office  of  Cubery  &  Co.  is  located  at  587  Mission 
street,  occupying  a  roomy  loft,  and  while  not  a  large  establish- 
ment, is  well  equipped  for  the  class  of  work  undertaken.  Mr. 
Cubery  gives  his  personal  supervision  to  much  of  the  work, 
which  has  a  character  of  its  own.  For  many  years  he  has  had  a 
great  deal  of  church  and  educational  work,  and  his  catalogues  for 
private  seminaries  and  schools  are  well  known.  Then  for  a 
number  of  years  he  had  a  very  large  business  in  society  cards,  at 
one  time  keeping  on  hand  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  manu- 
factured stock  ready  for  names.  This  business  has  been  so 
depreciated  in  recent  years  by  the  flooding  of  the  country  with 
cheap,  gaudy  designs,  that  he  now  gives  less  attention  to  that 
branch  than  formerly. 

It  is  not  often  one  sees  a  business  man  and  a  printer  in  the 
afternoon  of  life  enjoying  a  moderate  competency  and  a  serene 
existence.  Too  often  the  struggle  for  a  livelihood  and  the 
upbuilding  of  a  business  beget  a  fevered  condition  not  compatible 
with  contentment  and  ease. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  the  scramble  for  wealth  is  the 
undoing  of  very  many  every  day,  and  the  printer  to  be  envied  is 
not  he  who  has  built  up  a  great  establishment,  with  hundreds  of 
employees,  but  the  one  who  has  through  it  all  preserved  his 

health  and  his  ability  to  enjoy  life. 

— Inland  Printer. 


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We  print  the  following  pages  to  enable  our  friends  to  enjoy  some  Califor.iian  views.    Also  to  convince 
them  that  Cnbery  &  Company  are  well  equipped  to  do  Printing  and  Engraving  of  every  description. 


COL.     A.     S.     HUBBARD 

Founder  and  Past  President-General  Society  of  the  Sons  of  the  American  Revolution 


Of  Interest  to  Women. 


Girls,  don't  marry  a  man  for  money,  position,  or  anything  bat  love. 

Don't  do  it,  if  you  want  to  live  to  a  good  old  age  and  be  happy. 

You  m%y  think  that  money  can  bring  you  all  you  desire,  but  it  can't. 

That  is  where  you  are  mistaken.  It  can  buy  a  good  many  things,  but  it  can  never 
purchase  contentment  and  happiness  for  your  heart  and  soul. 

It  may  brine:  temporary  smiles  to  your  face,  but  it  will  leave  great  shadows  in  your  heart. 

Don't  think  that  I  would  advise  you  to  marry  a  worthless  fellow  just  because  yon  imagine 
you  love  him. 

A  refined,  good,  intelligent  woman  should  never  marry  a  vulgar,  ill-bred  man.  No,  no, 
never  unite  yourself  to  any  one  who  is  not  a  man  in  the  truest  meaning  of  the  word. 

Neither  could  I  advise  a  woman  to  marry  a  man  who  had  no  visible  means  of  supporting 
her,  but  for  heaven's  sake  don't  marry  a  millionaire  or  a  king,  if  you  don't  love  him. 

It  will  not  do. 

People  have  tried  it  time  and  again,  only  to  find  it  a  miserable  failure. 

It  may  do  for  awhile.  You  may  revel  in  gilded  halls,  and  be  lost  in  the  giddy  rounds  of 
pleasure,  but  a  time  will  come  when  these  things  will  be  a  hollow  mockery  to  you. 

There  will  be  an  "  aching  void  "  the  world  can  never  fill. 

Sometimes  mothers  are  to  blame  for  the  unhappiness  of  their  daughters. 

They  teach  them  (hat  respect  for  their  husband  and  lots  of  "  boodle"  are  infinitely  to  be 
preferred  to  that  foolishness  called  love. 

That  would  do  very  well  if  life  had  no  waves  of  trouble,  but  it  takes  something  more  than 
simple  respect  to  make  two  hearts  cling  together  in  the  hour  of  adversity. 

A  woman  that  turns  her  back  upon  wealth  and  takes  the  man  of  her  choice  may  miss 
some  of  the  luxuries  of  life,  but  she  will  be  happy. 

To  Hake  a  Happy  Home. 

1.  Learn  to  govern  yourselves  and  to  b»  gentle  and  patient. 

2.  Guard  your  tempers,  especially  in  seasons  of  ill-health,  irritation  and  trouble,  and 
soften  them  by  prayers  and  a  sense  of  your  own  shortcomings  and  errors. 

3.  Never  speak  or  act  in  anger  until  you  have  prayed  over  your  words  or  acts. 

4.  Remember  that,  valuable  as  is  the  gift  of  speech,  silence  is  often  more  valuable. 

5.  Do  not  expect  too  much  from  others,  but  remember  that  all  have  an  evil  nature  whose 
development  we  must  expect,  and  that  we  should  forbear  and  forgive,  as  we  often  desire 
forbearance  and  forgiveness  ourselves. 

6.  Never  retort  a  sharp  or  angry  word.    It  is  the  second  word  that  makes  the  quarrel. 

7.  Beware  of  the  first  disagreement. 

8.  Learn  to  speak  in  a  gentle  tone  of  voice. 

9.  Learn  to  say  kind  and  pleasant  things  whenever  opportunity  offers. 

10.  Study  the  characters  of  each,  and  sympathize  with  all  in  their  troubles,  however 
small.  '. 

11.  Do  not  neglect  little  things  if  they  can  affect  the  comfort  of  others  in  the  smallest 
degree. 

12.  Avoid  moods  and  pets  and  fits  of  snlkiness. 

13.  Learn  to  deny  yourself  and  prefer  others. 

14.  Beware  of  meddlers  and  tale-bearers. 

15.  Never  charge  a  bad  motive  if  a  good  one  is  conceivable. 

16.  Be  gentle  and  firm  with  children. 

17.  Do  not  allow  your  children  to  be  away  from  home  at  night  without  knowing  where 
they  are. 

18.  Do  not  allow  them  to  go  where  they  please  on  the  Sabbath. 

19.  Do  not  f  urnish  them  with  much  spending  money. 

20.  Don't  grumble.    He  is  a  fool  that  grumbles  at  every  mischance.    Put  the  best  foot 
forward,  is  an  old  and  good  maxim.    Don't  run  about  and  tell  acquaintances  that  you  have 
been  unfortunate.    People  do  not  like  to  have  unfortunate  men  for  acquaintances.    Add  to 
a  vigorous  determination,  a  cheerful  spirit ;  if  reverses  come,  bear  them  like  a  philosopher, 
and  get  rid  of  them  as  soon  as  you  can.    Poverty  is  like  a  panther— look  it  steadily  in  the  face 
and  it  will  turn  from  you. 


Funeral. 


I  was  walking  in  Savannah,  past  a  church  decayed  and  dim, 

When  there  slowly  through  a  window  came  a  plaintive  funeral  hymn  ; 

And  a  sympathy  awakened,  and  a  wonder  quickly  grew, 

'Till  I  found  myself  environed  in  a  little  negro  pew. 

Out  at  front  a  colored  couple  sat  in  sorrow,  nearly  wild ; 
On  the  altar  was  a  coffin,  in  the  coffin  was  a  child  ; 
I  could  picture  him  when  living — curly  hair,  protruding  lip — 
And  had  seen  perhaps  a  thousand  in  my  hurried  Southern  trip. 

But  no  baby  ever  rested  in  the  soothing  arms  of  Death 

That  had  fanned  more  flames  of  sorrow  with  his  little  fluttering  breath. 

And  no  funeral  ever  glistened  with  more  sympathy  profound 

Than  was  in  the  chain  of  tear-drops  that  enclapsed  those  mourners  rouud. 

Rose  a  sad  old  colored  preacher  at  the  little  wooden  desk, 
With  a  manner  grandly  awkward,  with  a  countenance  grotesque ; 
With  simplicity  and  shrewdness  on  his  Ethiopian  face ; 
With  the  ignorance  and  wisdom  of  a  crushed,  undying  race. 

And  he  said,  "  Now  don't  be  weepin'  for  dis  pretty  bit  o'  clay, 
For  de  little  boy  who  lived  dere,  he  done  gone  and  run  away. 
He  was  doin  very  finely,  and  he  'preciate  your  love ! 
But  sure  'nuff  his  Father  want  him  in  de  large  house  up  above. 

"  Now  he  don'  give  youdat  baby,  by  a  hundred  thonsan'  mile  ! 
He  just  think  you  need  some  sunshine,  an'  He  lend  it  for  a  while! 
An'  He  let  you  keep  an'  love  it  till  your  hearts  were  bigger  grown ; 
An'  dese  silver  tears  you're  sheddin's  jest  de  interest  on  de  loan. 

"  Here  yer  oder  pretty  chillun  !— don'  be  makin'  it  appear 
Dat  your  love  got  sort  o'  nop'lized  by  dis  little  fellow  here  ; 
Don'  pile  up  too  much  your  sorrow  on  deir  little  mental  shelves, 
So's  to  kind  o'  set  'im  wonderin'  if  de're  no  account  demselves  ! 

"  Just  you  think,  you  poor  deah  mounahs,  creepin'  'long  o'er  Sorrow's  way, 

What  a  blessed  little  picnic  dis  yer  baby's  got  to-day  ! 

Your  good  faders  and  good  moders  crowd  de  little  fellow  round 

In  de  angel-tended  garden  ob  de  Big  Plantation  Ground. 

"  An'  dey  ask  him, '  Was  your  feet  sore?'  and  take  off  his  little  shoes. 
An'  dey  wash  him,  an'  dey  kiss  him,  an'  dey  say, '  What  is  de  news?  ' 
An'  de  Lawd  done  let  his  tongue  loose  ;  den  de  little  follow  say, 
>  All  our  folks  down  in  de  valley  tries  to  keep  de  hebbenly  way.' 

"  An'  his  eyes  dey  brightly  sparkle  at  de  pretty  things  he  view  ; 
Den  a  tear  comes,  an'  he  whisper, '  But  I  want  my  paryents,  too  ! ' 
But  de  Angel  Chief  Musician  teach  dat  boy  a  little  song  ; 
Says. '  If  only  dey  be  fait'ful  dpy  will  soon  be  comin'  'long.' 

"  An'  he'll  get  an  edycation  dat  will  probably  be  worth 
Seberal  times  as  much  as  any  you  could  buy  for  him  on  earth  ; 
He'll  be  in  de  Lawd's  big  schoolhouse.  without  contempt  or  fear  ; 
While  dere's  no  end  to  the  bad  tings  might  a  happened  to  him  here. 

"  So  my  pooah  dejected  monnahs,  let  your  hearts  wid  Jesus  rest. 
An'  don'  go  to  critercisin'  dat  are  One  w'at  knows  de  best ! 
He  have  sent  us  many  comforts— He  hab  right  to  take  away — 
To  de  Lawd  be  praise  an'  glory  now  and  ever  !— Let  us  pray." 

—  Will  Carleton. 
[Sample  of  Nonpareil  Roman.] 


The  Sweet  Little  Man. 


Now,  while  our  soldiers  are  fighting  our  battles, 

Kach  at  his  post  to  do  all  that  he  can, 
Down  among  rebels  and  contraband  chattels, 

What  are  you  doing,  my  sweet  little  man? 

All  the  brave  boys  under  canvas  are  sleeping, 
All  of  them  pressing  to  march  with  the  van, 

Far  from  the  home  where  there  sweethearts  are  weeping; 
What  are  you  waiting  for,  sweet  little  man? 

You  with  the  terrible  warlike  moustaches, 

Fit  for  a  colonel  or  chief  of  a  clan, 
You  with  the  waist  made  for  sword-belts  and  sashes, 

Where  are  your  shoulder-straps,  sweet  little  man? 

Bring  him  the  buttonless  garment  of  woman! 

Cover  his  face  lest  it  freckle  and  tan; 
Muster  the  Apron-string  Guards  on  the  Common, 

That  is  the  corps  for  the  sweet  little  man! 

Give  him  for  escort  a  file  of  young  misses, 
Each  of  them  armed  with  a  deadly  rattan; 

They  shall  defend  him  from  laughter  and  hisses, 
Aimed  by  low  boys  at  the  sweet  little  man. 

All  the  fair  maidens  about  him  shall  cluster, 
Pluck  the  white  feathers  from  bonnet  and  fan, 

Make  him  a  plume  like  a  turkey-wing  duster, — 
That  is  the  crest  for  the  sweet  little  man! 

O,  but  the  Apron-string  Guards  are  the  fellows! 

Drilling  each  day  since  our  troubles  began, — 
"  Handle  your  walking  sticks!  "     "  Shoulder  umbrellas!  " 

That  is  style  for  the  sweet  little  man. 

Have  we  a  nation  to  save?    In  the  first  place 

Saving  ourselves  is  the  sensible  plan, — 
Surely  the  spot  where  there's  shooting's  the  worst  place 

Where  I  can  stand,  says  the  sweet  little  man. 

Catch  me  confiding  my  person  with  strangers! 

Think  how  the  cowardly  Bull-Runners  ran! 
In  the  brigade  of  the  Stay-at-home  rangers 

Marches  my  corps,  says  the  sweet  little  man. 

Such  was  the  stuff  of  the  Malakoff-takers, 
Such  were  the  soldiers  that  scaled  the  Redan; 

Truculent  housemaids  and  bloodthirsty  Quakers 
Brave  not  the  wrath  of  the  sweet  little  man. 

Yield  him  the  sidewalk,  ye  nursery  maidens! 

Sauve  qui  pevt!  Bridget,  and  right  about!  Ann; — 
Fierce  as  a  shark  in  a  school  of  menhadens, 

See  him  advancing,  the  sweet  little  man. 

When  the  red  flails  of  the  battle-field's  threshers 
Beat  out  the  continent's  wheat  from  its  bran, 

While  the  wind  scatters  thechaffv  seceshers, 
What  will  become  of  our  sweet  little  man? 

When  the  brown  soldiers  come  back  from  the  borders, 
How  will  he  look  while  his  features  they  scan? 

How  will  he  feel  when  he  gets  marching  orders, 
Signed  by  his  lady  love?    Sweet  little  man! 

Fear  not  for  him,   though    the    rebels  expect  him,— 
Life  is  too  precious  to  shorten  its  span; 

Woman   her  broomstick   shall  raise  to  protect  him, 
Will  she  not  fight  for  the  sweet  little  man! 

Now  then,  nine  cheers  for  the  Stay-at-home  Ranger! 

Blow  the  great  fish-horn  and  beat  the  big  pan! 
First  In  the  field  that  is  farthest  Irom  danger, 

Take  your  white-feather  plume,  sweet  little  man. 

— Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 
[Sample  of  Nonpareil  Old  Style.] 


Bereaved  Ones. 


I  know,  in  grief  like  yours,  how  more  than  vaiu 
All  comfort  to  the  stricken  heart  appears  ; 
And  as  the  bursting  cloud  must  spend  its  rain, 
So  xrief  its  tears. 

I  know  that  when  your  little  darling's  form 
Had  freed  the  angel's  spirit  fettered  there, 
You  could  not  pierce  beyond  the  breaking  storm 
In  your  despair. 

You  could  not  see  the  tender  hand  that  caught 
Your  little  lamb  to  shield  him  from  all  harm; 
You  missed  him  from  your  own,  but  never  thought 
Of  Jesus'  arm. 

You  only  knew  those  precious  eyes  were  dim  ; 
You  only  felt  those  lovely  lips  were  cold ; 
You  only  clung  to  what  remained  of  him — 
The  mortal  mould. 

But  oh,  fond  parents,  look  !  the  gate  unbars, 
And  through  the  darkness,  smiling  from  the  skies, 
Are  beaming  on  you,  brighter  than  those  stars, 
Your  darling's  eyes. 

'Tis  said  that  when  the  pastures  down  among 
The  Alpine  bills  have  ceased  to  feed  the  flocks, 
And  they  must  mount  to  where  the  grass  is  young, 
Far  up  the  rocks, 

The  shepherd  takes  a  little  lamb,  at  play, 
And  lifts  him  gently  to  his  careful  breast, 
And  with  its  tender  bleating  leads  the  way 
For  all  the  rest; 

That  quick  the  mother  follows  in  its  path, 
Then  others  go,  like  men  whose  faith  gives  hopes, 
And  soon  the  shepherd  gathers  all  he  hath 
Far  up  the  slopes. 

And  on  these  everlasting  hills  he  feeds 
The  trusting  fold  in  green  that  never  palls. 
Look  up  !    Oh  see  !    Your  little  darling  leads—- 
The shepherd,  Jesus,  calls. 

— Rev.  William  Munford. 
[Sample  of  Brevier  Roman.! 


Have  Faith  and  Struggle  On. 


A  Swallow  in  the  Spring 

Came  to  our  granary,  and   'neath  the  eaves 
Essayed  to  make  her  nest,  and  there  did  bring 

Wet  earth  and  straw  and  leaves. 

Day  after  day  she  toiled 

With  patient  art,  but  ere  her  work  was  crowned, 
Some  sad  mishap  the  tiny  fabric  spoiled 

And  dashed  it  to  the  ground. 

She  found  the  ruin  wrought, 

But  not  cast  down,  forth  from  the  place  she  flew, 
And  with  her  mate  fresh  earth  and  grasses  brought, 

And  built  her  nest  anew. 

But  scarcely  had  she  placed 

The  last  soft  feather  on  its  ample  floor, 
When  wicked  hand,  or  chance,  again  laid  waste 

And  wrought  the  ruin  o'er. 

But  still  her  heart  she  kept, 

And  toiled  again — and  last  night,  hearing  calls, 
I  looked — and  lo!  three  little  swallows  slept 

Within  the  earth-made  walls. 

What  truth  is  here,  O  man! 

Hath  hope  been  smitten  in  its  early  dawn  ? 
Have  clouds  o'ercast  thy  purpose,  trust  or  plan  ? 

Have  faith,  and  struggle  on! 

— R.  S.  S.  Andros. 


\  Sample  of  Brevier  Old  Style.] 


Making  the  Best  of  Life. 


Let  us  drive  away  woe 

As  we  would  any  foe: 
There's  joy  in  the  world  for  us  yet; 

And  a  laugh  and  a  song, 

As  we're  passing  along, 
Is  better  by  far  than  to  fret 

'Tis  true,  there  is  sorrow- 
Enough  we  can  borrow, 

And  dark  clouds  will  sometimes  arise; 
But  they'll  soon  pass  away, 
For  one  bright  sunny  ray 

Will  banish  them  all  from  our  skies. 

Ay,  we  know  well  enough, 

That  the  road  is  full  rough, 
And  our  feet  may  be  weary  and  sore; 

But  we'll  smile  at  the  pain 

If  we  only  can  gain 
In  the  end,  that  sunnier  shore. 

We  can  sail  on  the  sea, 
Although  storm-lashed  it  be, 

And  smile  when  the  mad  billows  roll : 
Dangers  only  will  serve 
To  make  strong  the  weak  nerve, 

And  strengthen  the  heart  and  the  soul. 

Should  our  friends  prove  untrue, 
We  will  seek  faces  new, 

And  bid  the  lost  friendship  good-bye : 
We  can  lighten  our  load 
On  the  rough,  rugged  road, 

And  be  glad,  if  we  only  will  try. 

If  our  loved  ones  must  go, 
We  will  let  the  tears  flow : 

It  will  serve  to  ease  the  sad  heart. 
But  the  hope  will  remain: 
We  shall  meet  them  again, 

In  a  land  where  we  never  shall  part. 

[Sample  of  Long  Primer  Roman.] 


On  a  Street  Car. 


it  was  just  six  o'clock  and  the  car  was  packed  with  people  going  home.  She  carried  some 
bundles,  and  in  her  efforts  to  handle  them  and  save  them  from  crushing,  she  dropped  her 
mitten.  She  saw  it  go,  hut  was  powerless  to  stay  its  descent,  and  it  went  down  in  successive 
stages  in  a  triangular  space  between  herself,  a  man  who  looked  over  her  head  and  an  indi- 
vidual who  was  deaf. 

"There  goes  my  mitten!  " 

The  deaf  man  leaned  over  and  said:  "  Eh  ?  " 

"  My  mitten — mitten — it  fell  down." 

"  Well,  ye  can't  get  it,  mum.  Ye'llhave  to  wait  till  the  car  gits 
to  the  end  of  the  line,  so  the  conductor  can  pull  up  the  floor." 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Besides,  I  ain't  going  to  have  all 
these  people  walk  in  on  it  for  half  an  hour." 

"  Haven't  you  got  another  ?  "  said  the  deaf  man. 

"Course  I've  got  another  one,"  and  she  wiggled  the  hand 
incased  in  her  other  mitten. 

The  deaf  man  saw  the  movement,  and  knowing  that  women  often 
carry  car  fare  inside  their  hand  covering,  reached  over  and  pulled 
her  mitten  off  for  her. 

Then  she  screamed. 

The  conductor  was  the  only  man  who  could  edge  his  way  to  the 
scene  of  trouble. 

"  What's  the  matter  here  ?  " 

"  Lady  dropped  her  nickel  and  can't  pick  it  up." 

"  Didn't  drop  my  nickel — dropped  my  mitten,"  said  the  lady 
with  the  packages. 

"  Said  she  had  another  one,  but  she  lied." 

"  You're  an  old  door  post,"  said  the  woman  with  one  mitten. 

"  Queer  how  some  folks  go  traveling  about  town  with  only  one 
nickel,"  said  the  deaf  man. 

"They  get  along  bett'rn  people  with  no  ears." 

"  Was  that  all  the  money  yer  husband  gave  ye  ?  "  asked  the  deaf 
man  in  a  tone  of  sympathy.  "  He  must  be  a  regular  brute." 

"  If  he  was  here  now  he'd  eat  you  up." 

"  I  s'pose  them's  collars  and  cuffs  she's  been  doin'  up  and  goin' 
to  deliver  'em,"  said  the  deaf  man  to  the  passers. 

Then  the  conductor  said:  "  Fare,  please,  and  the  woman  gave 
up  a  nickel  she  had  been  carrying  in  her  mouth. 

"  Thought  it  was  in  your  mitten,"  said  the  deaf  man. 

"  You  don't  know  how  to  think,"  said  the  woman. 

"  Wonder  why  she  didn't  carry  'em  both  in  her  mouth  ?  "  said 
the  deaf  man. 

"  You  ought  to  stuff  both  of  your  own  mittens  in  yer  mouth," 
said  the  woman. 

"Ain't  ye  afraid  ye'll  swaller  yer  nickel  that  way  some  time  ?  " 
asked  the  deaf  man. 

"  If  I  do  I  reckon  it  won't  injure  my  hearing,"  said  the  woman. 

Then  the  conductor  got  down  on  the  floor  and  recovered  the 
woman's  mitten,  and  she  got  off  at  the  next  crossing,  wondering 
why  some  people  didn't  carry  ear  trumpets. 

I  Sample  of  Long  Primer  Old  Style.  ] 


The  Survival  of  the  Fittest. 


In  northern  zones  the  ranging  bear 

Protects  himself  with  fat  and  hair. 

Where  snow  is  deep  and  ice  is  stark, 

And  half  the  year  is  cold  and  dark, 

He  still  survives  a  clime  like  that 

By  growing  fur,  by  growing  fat. 

These  traits,  O  Bear,  which  thou  transmittest, 

Prove  the  survival  of  the  fittest! 

To  polar  regions  waste  and  wan 

Comes  the  encroaching  race  of  man. 

A  puny,  feeble,  little  lubber — 

He  had  no  fur,  he  had  no  blubber. 

The  scornful  bear  sat  down  at  ease 

To  see  the  stranger  starve  and  freeze  ; 

But  lo !  the  stranger  slew  the  bear, 

And  ate  his  fat,  and  wore  his  hair ! 

These  deeds,  O  Man,  which  thou  committest, 

Prove  the  survival  of  the  fittest! 

In  modern  times  the  millionaire 
Protects  himself  as  did  the  bear. 
Where  Poverty  and  Hunger  are, 
He  counts  his  bullion  by  the  car. 
Where  thousands  suffer,  still  he  thrives, 
And  after  death  his  Will  survives. 
The  wealth,  O  Croesus,  thou  transmittest, 
Proves  the  survival  of  the  fittest! 

But  lo!  some  people,  old  and  funny, 
Some  men  without  a  cent  of  money, 
The  simple,  common  Human  Race, — 
Chose  to  improve  their  dwelling  place. 
They  had  no  use  for  Millionaires; 
They  calmly  said  the  world  was  theirs ; 
They  were  so  wise — so  strong — so  many— 
The  Millionaire?     There  wasn't  any! 
These  deeds,  O  Man,  which  thou  committest, 
Prove  the  survival  of  the  fittest! 

— Charlotte  Perkins  Stetson. 


[Sample  of  Pica  Roman.  1 


Know  Thyself. 

He  nobly  cast  himself  beneath 
The  regicide's  descending  knife, 
Heroically  meeting  death 
To  save  his  sovereign's  life  ; 
And  as  he  bled  upon  the  sward 
The  monarch  offered  him  reward. 

"If  thou  be  grateful  unto  me, 

O  King  !  "  the  dying  padre  said, 

"  Each  morn  and  night,  on  bended  knee, 

And  with  uncrowned  head, 

Pray  thou  for  him,  or  far  or  near, 

Who  standeth  most  in  need  of  prayer." 

*  *  ^  #  *          *  * 

That  night  the  king,  on  bended  knee, 
Cried,  u  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me.v 

—  W.  B.  Seabrook. 


[Sample  of  Pica  Old  Style.] 


People's  Prayer. 


God,  give  us  men!    A  time  like  this  demands 

Strong  minds,  great  hearts,  true  faith  and  ready  hands: 

Men  whom  the  lust  of  office  does  not  kill : 

Men  whom  the  spoils  of  office  cannot  buy; 

Men  who  possess  opinions  and  a  will ; 

Men  who  have  honor,  —Men  who  will  not  lie; 

Men  who  can  stand  before  a  demagogue. 

And  damn  his  treacherous  flattery  without  winking; 

Tall  men,  sun  crowned,  who  live  above  the  fog 

In  public  duty  and  in  private  thinking: 

For  while  the  rabble,  with  their  thumb-worn  creeds, 

Their  loud  professions,  and  their  little  deeds, 

Mingle  in  selfish  strife,  lo!  Freedom  weeps, 

Wrong  rules  the  land,  and  waiting  justice  sleeps. 

— J.  G.  Holland 


JiJears  a  printer. 

"  ttbe  Unties  Cbange,  anb  TKtte  Change  witb  "Cbem." 

To  Mr  FBIENDS: 

Fifty  years  today  I  began  life  as  a  printer.  Figuratively  I  shake  bands 
with  each  one,  and  say:  "God  bless  you;  how  old  you  look!  Why,  /  feel 
younger  than  ever!" 

In  earlier  days  I  struggled  unremittingly,  torturing  my  poor  body  in  efforts 
to  get  ahead;  but  the  experience  of  fifty  years  in  Life's  battle  has  taught 
me  that  the  possession  of  wealth  is  not  everything;  that  many  a  millionaire 
would  gladly  exchange  places  with  the  poor  man  who  has  a  clear  conscience, 
good  health,  and  a  cheerful  home. 

The  following  was  published  in  August,  1894: 

William  M.  Cubery  is  not  as  young  as  he  was  March  25th,  1836. 

Became  a  printer  March  20th,  1850.  Served  an  old-fashioned  seven  years' 
apprenticeship  at  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  being 
the  first  apprentice  that  graduated  from  that  noted  office. 

Arrived  in  California  October,  I860. 

Edited  Wilmington  (Los  Angeles  county)  Journal,  the  only  Union  paper  in 
Southern  California  during  the  rebellion,  from  March,  1865,  to  July,  1866, 
and  served  as  Justice  of  the  Peace. 

Returned  to  San  Francisco  and  organized  the  firm  of  Cubery  &  Company. 

August  6th,  1870,  married  the  best  woman  in  the  world. 

From  that  date  he  has  had  all  the  experiences  of  California  life:  Prosperity  and 
adversity;  enjoyed  the  blessings  of  little  ones  in  the  household;  endured 
the  agony  of  placing  them  in  their  narrow  homes  in  the  "  city  of  the 
silent;"  been  favored  with  a  little  band  of  true  friends;  been  wounded  by 
ingratitude;  and  yet  often  cheered  by  kind  words  from  those  he  chanced 
to  aid. 

August  6th,  1894.  The  setting  sun  now  finds  him  near  the  Golden  Gate.  His 
little  home  is  in  the  town  of  Alameda — one  of  the  pretty  spots  of  earth. 
Here  he  hopes  to  end  his  days,  among  a  people  whom  he  loves,  and  amid 
such  beauties  of  nature  that  it  will  not  seem  difficult,  when  "  mustered 
oat"  as  Sentinel  of  the  Golden  Gate,  to  imagine  that  he  has  had  a 
continuous  journey  to  the  other  Goodly  Land. 

*  *  *  *  •         *  *  *  *  * 

His  little  Alameda  home  is  no  more.  Death  entered  it  February  1st,  1898, 
and  carried  away  its  charm  and  its  mainstay.  He  now  lives  in  a  cheerful 
room  in  San  Francisco — alone  in  that  great  city — for  his  loved  ones  have 
all  gone  to  their  "  long  home."  But  he  is  sustained  in  the  pieasant 
thought  that  he  was  ever  blessed  with  their  confidence  and  love. 
********* 

To  the  members  of  the  craft  I  extend  fraternal  greetings.  There  may  be 
better  men — in  Heaven — but  I  know  of  no  class  on  earth  who  do  more  good, 
who  are  more  ready  to  aid  distress,  to  defend  the  right,  to  protect  the  honor  of 
the  flag,  to  elevate  and  benefit  humanity  than  printers.  They  may  not  live  in 
fine  houses;  their  clothes  may  be  misfits;  their  pocket-books  may  be  light; 
and  they  may  be  a  little  slow  in  paying  their  debts ;  but  in  all  that  constitutes 
true  manhood  and  builds  up  a  sturdy,  honest,  hard-working  people,  and 
develops  a  nation's  greatness,  the  craft  to  which  I  have  had  the  honor  to 
belong  for  fifty  years  has  no  peer. 

May  the  coming  years,  my  friends,  bring  to  you  many  blessings.     These 
cannot  be  more  abundant  than  are  heartily  prayed  for  by 
SAN  FKANOISCO,  CAL.,  Your  youthful  friend, 

March  20th,  1900.  WILLIAM  M.  CUBERY. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

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